The silence in the alley remained absolute, frozen in time. Drops of dirty water floated motionless in the air, like pearls of grayish crystal.
Shen Tian’s breathing was the only perceptible sound.
He stopped laughing. His expression hardened, erasing any trace of the fifteen-year-old boy inhabiting that body.
"Think, Shen Tian, think." He rubbed his chin, feeling the absence of the sparse beard he had stroked for decades.
Survive a hundred years without external help. Die of old age.
That was the hidden condition. A macabre joke.
Who in their right mind, upon knowing they had transmigrated to a Xianxia world, would resign themselves to living as a mortal while ignoring cultivation altogether?
No one. That’s why it’s a hidden condition. The system rewards extreme resignation or absolute failure. In my case, both.
He closed his eyes for an instant, organizing the chaos of his mind. He remembered his first life in this world perfectly.
The beatings, the hunger, the contempt in the Iron Cloud Sect. He remembered the despair of having a fourth-grade spiritual root.
In the Deep Heaven Continent, spiritual roots were divided into nine grades, with the ninth being myth and the first, absolute trash.
A fourth grade was barely one step above scum. It was enough to perceive the Qi of heaven and earth, but his meridians were so narrow and fragile that absorbing that energy was like trying to fill a lake using a dropper.
A genius with an eighth-grade root could complete a Qi circulation cycle in an hour; it took him three days. That insurmountable difference was the core of his past misery.
He opened his eyes and focused his attention on the translucent blue panel floating before him.
Fine. A Heaven Suppression System. Sounds arrogant. Let’s see if the content backs up the title.
"Status interface," he said in a low voice. Speaking aloud helped him concentrate, a habit he remembered from Earth novels.
The panel flickered and the main screen changed, displaying rows of crisp text.
[Host: Shen Tian]
[Age: 15 (Soul Age: 135)]
[Spiritual Root: Fourth Grade (Mediocre leaning toward bad)]
[Cultivation Base: None (Mortal)]
[Constitution: Malnourished Mortal]
[Suppression Points: 0]
Shen Tian sighed. The visual confirmation of his mediocrity still hurt, even though he had made peace with it on his deathbed.
I’m still the same fourth-grade waste.
The temporal rewind left me in the same frail body. That makes sense. The body is just a temporary vessel at this stage.
What matters is what this system does.
"Suppression Points. Explain that concept," he demanded, crossing his thin, dirty arms over his chest.
The mechanical voice resonated directly in his brain, perfectly neutral.
[Response: Suppression Points are the system’s currency. They are obtained by actively altering the world’s "Established Destiny," overcoming obstacles, resolving crises, and primarily by seizing opportunities or defeating those favored by the Heavens (Children of Destiny, Era Geniuses, World Protagonists).]
[These points can be used to: 1. Directly improve the Spiritual Root. 2. Deduce and upgrade cultivation manuals. 3. Exchange for resources in the System Shop (Unlocked at Qi Condensation Level 1).]
[Note: The amount of Suppression Points awarded per event varies according to the magnitude of the change in Established Destiny. The system will automatically calculate the reward.]
Shen Tian’s breathing stopped for a fraction of a second. His pupils dilated.
Improve the Spiritual Root?
In the Deep Heaven Continent, the spiritual root was fixed at birth. It was an immutable law dictated by the heavens.
There were legends of divine treasures, alchemical pills of mythical rank, or horrifying marrow transplants that could marginally alter talent. Those treasures belonged to the ancestors of supreme clans, while outer-sect scum could only dream of touching them.
If this is true... If I can raise my root to fifth grade, sixth, or even higher... the talent barrier ceases to exist.
A crooked smile drew itself on his youthful face.
It carried the satisfaction of a moneylender who finds a legal loophole to ruin his competitors.
"Seize opportunities from those favored by the heavens," he murmured.
He remembered Lin Xiao. The young master of the Lin Clan of Clear River City.
The prodigy with a seventh-grade root who, on a minor whim, ordered his lackeys to give him that beating that shattered his ribs and damaged his left meridian.
In his past life, Lin Xiao had ascended like a comet, joining the inner sect, obtaining the legacy of the Sword Elder, and eventually becoming a core elder before the war broke out.
Lin Xiao. And many others.
I remember dozens of ’geniuses’ who found secret caves just in time, who won impossible auctions, who stumbled upon celestial maidens. I know the course of history for the next one hundred and twenty years.
I know who dies, who ascends, and, most importantly, where the great inheritances are hidden.
The understanding struck him with the force of a forging hammer. His main advantage was the information. The system was the tool to exploit more than a century of foreknowledge.
"Show me more details. Do I have a starter pack? The novels said there was always a starter pack to compensate for the initial deficit," Shen Tian asked, his tone pragmatic and measured.
[Affirmative. Centenarian Survivor Pack available. Do you wish to open it?]
"Open that box," he ordered immediately.
A small virtual chest appeared on the screen and opened with a sound of light metals clinking.
[You have obtained: Mud Lotus Breathing Art (Lower Human Grade Manual, Deduced 100%)]
[You have obtained: Marrow Cleansing Pill (Lower Grade)]
[You have obtained: 100 Suppression Points (First Life Bonus)]
Shen Tian frowned. Mud Lotus Breathing Art? That was the trashy art they gave us spiritual farmers in the outer sect. But it says ’Deduced 100%’.
Before he could ask, a stream of information rushed into his mind. It was the text of the manual, but altered, purified.
The Qi circulation routes, once crude and full of bottlenecks that damaged the meridians, now flowed with impeccable logic, smooth and continuous.
He had spent decades cultivating the defective version, knowing every error through the pain in his own channels. The version in his head was now perfect within its limitations.
The system optimized the manual based on my past life’s experience.
Interesting.
The system accessed my memories. That makes sense: to evaluate my will and resilience, it must have watched my life from a distance, present yet passive. That’s why it could deduce the manual based on my mistakes. It observed my life the whole time, present. Watching. Waiting.
It’s still low-level, but the absorption efficiency will be at least three times greater than the standard Iron Cloud Sect version.
His attention shifted to the pill.
In the system inventory, an opaque brown sphere floated in a slot.
Marrow Cleansing Pill. Lower grade.
For a real cultivator it was a tasteless candy, but for this withered body full of mortal toxins accumulated from years of living on the streets and eating garbage... it was holy water.
"System. Deactivate temporal pause."
The absolute silence broke.
The sound of dripping returned. The distant murmur of the city market reached his ears.
The cold dawn wind whipped his face, bringing with it the smell of burnt coal and rotting vegetables.
Shen Tian ignored the cold. He ignored the filth on his skin.
"Extract Pill," he ordered.
The brown sphere materialized in his dirty hand. It gave off a faint medicinal smell, bitter but stimulating. Without hesitating a second, he brought it to his mouth and swallowed.
A sudden, painful heat filled his stomach, as if he had swallowed red-hot coal. Childhood tales spoke of explosions of mystic power; this sensation was far humbler.
The heat spread rapidly through his veins, heading toward his bones.
Shen Tian knelt in the mud, clenching his teeth.
The pain was intense, stabbing, like a thousand needles digging inside his marrow.
But he had endured broken ribs without painkillers; he had endured a century of dull pain. This was bearable because it had a purpose.
Little by little, a blackish, sticky substance began to exude from his pores.
The stench of filth in the alley intensified. It was the accumulated dirt of fifteen years of mortal life, violently expelled by the pill.
After a few minutes of controlled agony, the pain diminished, leaving behind a sensation of lightness he had never known even in his past youth.
He stood up slowly.
His muscles, though thin and malnourished, responded with greater agility. His breathing turned deep and clear.
My body is clean. The basic toxins have been expelled. The meridians, though narrow, are unobstructed. I am ready for the first step.
He looked at the panel, specifically at the Suppression Points line.
"System. How many points do I need to raise my Spiritual Root from Fourth Grade to Fifth Grade?"
[Response: 500 Suppression Points.]
Shen Tian clicked his tongue. I have 100. I need 400 more. And since my only accomplishment so far is having lived a full, miserable life, I suppose those 100 are the reward for endurance.
[Clarification: The 100 Suppression Points are a one-time bonus for completing the First Life. They reward the completion of the First Life itself.]
Shen Tian blinked. A direct response to my assumption. The system responds to commands and apparently monitors my thoughts closely enough to offer clarifications. Noted.
"Are there any active tasks? Missions?"
The panel flickered again.
[Generating First Incursion Mission...]
[Mission: The First Step of the Divergence.]
[Objective: Perceive the Qi of Heaven and Earth and successfully open the First Principal Meridian within the next 12 hours, using the Mud Lotus Breathing Art.]
[Success Reward: 50 Suppression Points. Partial unlocking of environmental perception (Level 1 Radar Mode).]
[Failure Penalty: Permanent closure of the Central Meridian. The system will not grant further missions until the host repairs the meridian by external means.]
Shen Tian read the penalty and let out a dry, humorless laugh.
Closure of the central meridian. Basically, crippling myself for life before starting, ensuring I can never cultivate. And if I fail, the system becomes useless until I find a miracle cure. Death threats in the tutorial.
Very well. At least this system has no patience for coddling. It plays hard. I like it.
He looked at the overcast sky of Dust Border City. The wooden bowl with its two copper coins was still there.
He sat down cross-legged in the driest corner of the alley, adopting the lotus position.
Twelve hours to open the first meridian.
In his past life, with a defective manual and a body full of toxins, it had taken him a full month of frustrated and painful attempts to achieve that same milestone.
The memory came back clearly: he was seventeen, barely two years after his transmigration, when he stole a broken Mud Lotus manual from a corpse in the city’s black market. He had tried to open the first meridian for weeks, desperate to find a shortcut, but pain and impatience defeated him again and again. In the end, he succeeded, but the effort was so miserable that he abandoned cultivation shortly after, convinced that only a golden finger could save him.
This time would be different.
He closed his eyes, visualized the perfected routes of the Mud Lotus Breathing Art, and began to inhale.